Winter
by Chatlantic
Summary: When a strange affliction has popped up among some of the countries, they are determined to keep it a secret while they try to solve it, but it isn't long before it begins spreading.  Summaries suck.   T for some language.
1. Façades

**C H A P T E R O N E**

• AMERICA }} **_a_**_lfred_ •

"I'll see you next winter," he said, with a curt dip of his hat. His hand slipped out of mine as he turned to leave.

I watched his retreating figure getting smaller as he walked towards his train. I half expected him to run back to me, arms open, ready to stay with me forever.

He always did tell me that I was full to the brim with 'that crazy imagination' of mine.

I stood there for a long time, just watching the empty tracks where the train had pulled out from. My steamy breath against my glasses was the only things that let me know that I was still alive. New people brushed past me, all absorbed in their own goodbyes and their own hellos. They all had a place to go. They were going forward. Where was I going?

A few people cast me dirty looks as I stood in the entrance hall. I assumed I was in the way, so I stuck my hands in my jean loops and sauntered back towards my car.

Once inside, I sat staring at my clenched hands on the steering wheel. The gears made a click as I shifted into reverse before adjusting my rear-view mirror. A somber-looking man looked back at me. He offered me a smile which I return a thousand times brighter.

I don't have to ask to know what he's going to say, so I interrupt him as he opens his mouth.

"Yes, Matthew, we can go to McDonalds." I said, like it's a big hassle. I gave him the thumbs-up sign as I pull out of my parking space.

"That wasn't what I was going to say at all." He responded in a withering tone. "Alfred, I-ah!" There was a loud noise from outside. "I think you just ran over another small child!"  
>"Yeah, right." I scoff, pulling away from the train station. "It was probably just a pop can."<p>

Matthew looked dubiously at me from the back seat. "Pop cans don't scream out in pain…" He said, but left it at that, and I can understand why. We didn't have extra money to be giving away to angry soccer moms whose kids I ran over. Not that I did. Run over them, that is.

Matt doesn't climb over the seat while I'm driving, or even at the stoplights like he would normally if he was forced to sit in the back. I'm thankful for this. I don't want the memory of him to be crushed so quickly.

Matt also stays quiet. Or maybe he talks. I don't hear him if he does. I take a peek in the mirror to make sure he's not talking, but I don't have any worries. He's leaning on his hand, staring out the window at the Vermont scenery as it passes by. He has a wistful expression on his face. I think it reminds him of home.

Home. That's where people take cars to. They take planes, buses, bikes, or boats to go home. They take trains to go home. But my car is taking me nothing but away from it. It might be going to my house later; it's not going home. And I can't make it. I knew from experience that trains go faster than cars, which, unless Italian or under certain circumstances, cannot catch up to a train that took your home from you twenty minutes ago.

I feel Mattie poking me from the back, and I realize that we're at the McDonalds.  
>"Oh, sorry." I said. I don't have to explain.<p>

We stepped out of the car and into the chilly eastern air, before scrambling inside and ordering. I settled down at a booth and start on one of the several hamburgers I ordered. Matthew gave me a worried look, one I get quite often, and starts picking at his own.

The conversation starts before I realized I didn't want it to.

"You know it's for the better, right, Alfred?" He said softly. I noticed that he had only taken a few bites out of his meal.

"Not hungry today?" I asked.

He gave me a look and ignored my question, just like I figured he would. That's what he usually does when you try to avoid him; sometimes, though, you can catch him off guard and make him forget for the rest of the day. "It's for the better," He repeated himself. "It's dangerous enough with the two of us living together."

It was hard; it took me a good minute to answer him, but the seconds droned on like hours.

"Right." I said between bites of burger.

Matthew was fingering his jacket sleeves. He was nervous. "You'll see him again…"

"Chyea." I unwrapped the second burger.

"Francis will check up on him. And he'll write!" He sounded determined to cheer me up. I looked up and met his gaze, a light indigo under a sheet of glass. He looked like he really wanted to help, too. I almost cheered up just so I could make him happy.

"Are you going to finish that?" I deadpanned.

Matthew gave me a long look before shaking his head and leaning back in his chair, a disappointed frown grazing his face. When I was done we just sat there, listening to the muffled sounds around us, avoiding each other's gazes like the plague. Finally, he got to his feet and walked out, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

The breeze tugged at my hair, numbed my cheeks, and bit my nose as we exited my car, jogging up the steps to our tiny townhouse.

It wasn't the prettiest to look at: that was for sure. The façade was brick, something usually associated with beautiful old homes, but I think our house was only a couple years old, and it reminded me of my grandmother. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

The paint was cracked on the windowpanes, and one of the shutters was missing. Just one. Ivy climbed up the side of it and choked the color from the beige siding. Sometimes it looked like it was part of the forest behind it, but it creeped me out a bit – like somehow, the forest mutated, and out popped a house.  
>It rained a lot by us, and snowed even more. Sometimes in the winter the house would be so covered in snow it'd be almost impossible to make out. A few years ago that actually happened, and Mattie and I got so lost we had to spend the night in our car while the snow thawed a bit. After that, we set out a bright-red mailbox.<p>

The neighbors were kind of unfriendly; the only time I remember talking to one of them included some variation of the following:

Them: "So. Moving in, huh?"

Me: "Yep. Came in from D.C."

Them: "Not so different here."

Me: "So I've heard."

Them: "Try to keep it quiet. The walls are thin."

I remember the neighbor having given me and Matthew a pointed look. I had nightmares that night.

We probably would have sold the house a long time ago. Like said before, it is tiny. Very small, not enough space, and just like the neighbor predicted, the walls are barely thicker than a cracker. And just as easy to break! - I found out a month after we moved in.

Arthur loved it. So I told Matthew I loved it too, even though any worthy mother would have washed my mouth out with soap when she heard the words I used to describe it.

I draped my jacket up on the posts we kept on the side of the wall and slid into the kitchen, Matthew following. I sat down at the worn-down kitchen table while he set about making coffee, wooden floorboards protesting under his footsteps. I stared out the naked window to the decaying leaves aflutter in the neighborhood. The snow had melted and the leaves from last autumn were dancing around.

If I were a thoughtful person, I might have compared the leaves to something poetic. A child leaving home. Salmon from their birth place. A snowflake from a cloud. I know that they will, or should, always come back. Say they don't, though?  
>I'm not a thoughtful person, though, so I just fiddle with my fingers.<p>

"Sugar?"

I looked up, a bit confused by the question before I remember Matt's making coffee. "Uh, yeah."

He set it down in front of me, but didn't take a seat at the table. He held a steaming cup of coffee himself, and if I looked behind him I could see the half-full maple syrup bottle, imported from Canada straight to his mug.

"Alfred." He said. "This is getting harder to do every day. England has a hard time getting over here. You should be grateful you get to see him at all, besides world meetings."

"I know." I'm surprised by voice is steady, because I feel like every wall I've ever built is crumbling right now. I feel miserable.

Matthew continued, always the median. When bad things happened, he smoothed things over. He was a peaceful person, patron of a peaceful country. Well, except for hockey. There was always the hockey.

"You're visiting him next winter. London! You get to see London! What time were you planning to go?" He fakes enthusiasm, going on in his quiet voice of his.

"October." I groaned. There was no point in trying to be cheerful now. He had me backed up against a corner.

"October! That's only eight months away." Matthew faltered, seeming to realize just how much time Arthur and I spent together. Four months out of all twelve? If I were lucky.

We sat in silence for a few hours. Or so it felt like. When I took a sip of my coffee, it was still warm, so maybe only a few minutes.

Matthew stood up abruptly, almost spilling coffee onto the table. He fixed me with a gaze so stern I almost felt like laughing; so un-Matthew-like!

"We have business to attend to tomorrow, Alfred. I'm getting some sleep. Make sure you clean up from your pity-party before our guests arrive." He snapped coldly, before dumping his coffee in the kitchen sink and stomping upstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>{AUTHOR'}<strong>

**OOC characters are OOC? sorry about that! ;L  
><strong>

**If you didn't already know, this is an Axis Powers Hetalia - The Wolves of Mercy Falls crossover. Two of my favorite things have been merged into one. :D I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, though it is pretty short. The others will be longer.**

**READ + REVIEW! :D  
><strong>


	2. Your Most Hated Friend

**C H A P T E R T W O**

• ENGLAND }} **_a_**_rthur_ •

Oh, how strange it was to leave from a place one day and return the next, feeling like a stranger just because of your absence.

This place had been my home for the past three-and-a-half months and now it was like a ghost town, so haunted with memories. I had been an intruder, walking down the sidewalks with my hands in my pockets and a scarf wrapped around my neck.

Nonchalant.

I, the very description of the word, could feel that theme throughout the day.

I twiddled the pen in my hand and tapped the backside quietly against my note-taking paper that currently resembled the tundra, it was so empty. All around me my co-workers watched the speaker with that same dull look in their eyes. Not many were happy to be here, but they did their part and argued with everything all the same.

Something's poking me in the stomach; I turned to see a blond man wiggling his eyes obscenely and making vulgar hand gestures.

"What do you want, France?" I asked coldly.

He chuckled. "Now, now, Arthur, why so icy? I only wanted to say hello, of course."

"All said and done." I turned back to the debate on hand. It seemed all too important to pay attention, now.

France made a scoffing noise beside me. "So uptight, as always, _Angleterre._ Maybe I can help loosen your muscles?"

I raised my pen in defense. "Touch me, and I'll rip your arms out of your sockets." I said in a dignified voice.

"England, it is surprising to have no word from you. Do you have any input?"

I froze, swallowing panic before looking up at the nation who was addressing me. Bulky and all business, he wasn't one of my favorites, but at least he was more civilized than the rest.

"I'm afraid not, Germany. None of these ideas have caught my eye." I said, trying to keep my gaze steady on him and no one else. Maybe they wouldn't catch my bluff.

"Do you have any ideas yourself?" He asked.

I paused, then answered truthfully. "No, I don't."

Nobody said anything for a while, so I gave a disdainful sniff and turned back to my notes. They carried on the conversation, but I think Germany kept shooting looks at me to see if I was paying attention.

A loud crashing sound filled the air and I started; my head shot up to see everyone with their gazes pointed in confusion at a blank spot in their circle of nations. Out of habit I pinched my nose as a man with a flyaway hair popped up over the side of the desk, glasses hanging off one ear. He straightened them and let out an over-enthusiastic chuckle, jumping to his feet and righting the chair.

"Ahha, sorry about that! I'm okay." He announced.

Germany and a few others glanced at each other, before the big bloke announced a recess.

I scooted away from my chair and exited as quickly as I could. I got out before most of the others and was making my way down the hallway, trying to find my way back out of this hotel we were hosting the meeting in. I exchanged a few polite genialities with various countries, not really paying attention to whom: Finland, Italy, Belgium, Taiwan. I grappled with their names.

I could see the doors ahead, in the lobby. I was almost out. I could escape for another few weeks without suspicion. After today, I'd be looking at eight months of me leading a less-complicated life.

Right now, though, I found myself looking at the complication.

Alfred caught me on the arm and swung me around gently, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey, England, what's up?"

I pulled away a bit and straightened my coat. "Why do you ask that? Would you like me to respond with what is actually above me?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and just shrugged, looking a bit disappointed. When he spoke I could hear it in his voice. "I don't know. It's just something you ask to people. A greeting. Like 'cheerio'."

I didn't have a response to that, so I just bit the inside of my cheek and looked past his shoulder at a clump of plants in the corner of the lobby.

"Are you okay?"

It slipped out of my mouth quietly and quickly, so quick I wanted to reel it back in. It wasn't something I would normally ask, especially not in public. My stomach clenched and I cringed inwardly.

Alfred studied me, and then gave me a thumbs up. "Yep. All's good." He grinned a bit.

"Well, be more careful next time. I know I've told you before not to lean on your chair." I said sharply.

I tried not to look at his hurt face as I brushed past him, crossing the room in a few quick strides. It was getting worse. I thought I could go through the day without feeling this tug at my insides, this nauseous wave rolling over me.

I pushed the door open and darted to the corner before breaking into a run. I could feel myself shuddering in my skin and I tried to pull myself away from the pain, tried to keep my mind off of it and onto anything else. I was grabbing at whatever I could with my thoughts – no! Not Alfred. I flinched.

It was hard to describe, really. The scents were coming at me stronger now; the sounds, quicker and louder; the thoughts, fleeting and hard to pick apart from others.

Overwhelming.

Somebody opened the door of a liquor store in front of me and I swerved around before stumbling, my legs bending and reshaping themselves to a form where they no longer supported my frame upright. I heard a soft gasp of surprise behind me, but that's all I really remember. A feeling of panic, not only from my human-conscious but also my wolf-conscious mind, washed over me and I tried to scramble away, on my hands and knees.

Suddenly I was more lupine than human.

As my bones broke themselves to pieces I tried to keep my thoughts together. Easier said than done, I believe.

Five words come at me first_: I wasn't supposed to shift._

A pale-coated creature on two legs was staring at me, holding something shiny and translucent in its paw. Its pelt was hanging around it like a blanket of snow against trees.

_Dangerous. Human._

No, not human. It didn't smell _whole_. It smelled like _the other one._

I backed away. It stepped closer. I elicited a low growl: I meant business. _Don't come closer._

The creature let out a growl of its own, a rolling one, like the sound of deer against the ground.

_Dangerous._

Hackles raised, I backed away further. Muscles tightened, ears pinned against head, fur bristling. They were warning signs. Why did it come closer, then?

_Danger._

I snarled.

_Danger._

It smelled of the snow.

•••

When I opened my eyes, I couldn't see the dust particles in the air.

Maybe that was because it was pitch black, but I hoped it was because I was human.

I grasped my hands together – yes, hands! – and closed my eyes, even if it was dark. As a human, my senses were diffused greatly, but I could still smell the wolf on me and in the air if I thought about it hard enough. I didn't want that. I held my hands against my mouth and breathed heat onto them, enjoying the feeling that tingled through them. It was chilly in here so I felt firmly in my skin; it eased the weary twinge in my gut and gave me enough shivers to feel my limbs.

_Danger._

This was it, wasn't it? Where was I being held? Area 51, probably. I was in damned America, found out by these damned Americans. I'd be probed – questioned, maybe, if they could keep me human long enough – and sliced open so they could examine every bit of me.

No more secrets.

What else would they discover of me? I wondered if Alfred's boss will recognize me. 'Good morning, Mr. President. The personification of England, who also happens to be a werewolf, was probed and killed by your scientists and deemed an alien.'

It amused me so greatly I had to chuckle a bit.

The door opened upwards and created a rattling sound like metal. A garage? That's what it sounded like. When my eyes adjusted to the light I could see a figure standing in the threshold of the holding place I was in.

_Danger._

"Comrade!" The figure called. "Why did you not tell me you were awake? I would have come in earlier."

Russia.

I could have accepted death, I suppose. If it was for the better of society, the people could have learned all my lupine secrets and dispose of the body secretly, or maybe even share me with the world. An international museum exhibit: _ROMULUS KIRKLAND; the gentlemanly werewolf._

But this? This was… indescribable, the terror that I could feel. It hit me like a car speeding, and thanks to Alfred, I knew what that felt like.

"Russia."

It was poison, that word – that name, - and it tasted bad in my mouth. The tall man grinned childishly back at me.

"Hello, Arthur. It is quite nice to see each other outside of work, da?" He reached out his hand, as if I was supposed to shake it from four feet away. I drew up a face of repulse and spat at his feet.

"Now I will have to clean that up later." He frowned a bit, before taking a few steps forward and bending closer to look at me.

"What do you want?" Was that my voice? It was steady, something I hadn't expected. "Will you beat me to death? Nuke my country? _Shoot me with a silver bullet_?"

Russia smiled at me for a few moments, and I wondered if he was mulling it over. A sense of dread washed over me. "That last idea sounds quite good." He said finally.

Me and my big mouth.

"Maybe I will spare you." He then said, and looked over me with a studious eye. I tried not to spit in his face.

He stood up straight. "_Arthur._ You know how I am, yes? I like to play games. I don't like it when someone is playing them without me."

"Sometimes there are already too many players, _Ivan_." I gritted my teeth.

He let out a chuckle. "Not for really good games! It is hard to find really good games nowadays. But… I think I have one in mind."

"What is that? See if wolves really do chew their own leg off if they're chained somewhere?" I scoffed.

"An amusing suggestion, but no." He was focusing on part of my face; my mouth, I think. I smiled at him and something seemed to ease in his mind. What, did he think I had canine teeth?

"I will make this simple for your painstakingly tiny half-human-half-wolf brain. I will let you live, England. I will not kill you. I will not kill your…_friends_. But in return, I want to play this game, too."

He cast a knowing look at me and then stuck his hand out again.

I knew this time he wasn't looking for a handshake.

It was disgusting. I could feel my gut wrenching itself away, since I wasn't moving quickly enough for it. I knew what he wanted.

And really. What was the worst that could happen?

* * *

><p><strong>{AUTHOR'S COMMENTS}<strong>

**bwaaah, why you say that, Arthur? That_ always_ just makes it worse.**

**If you didn't already know, this is an Axis Powers Hetalia - The Wolves of Mercy Falls crossover. Two of my favorite things have been merged into one. :D**

**I hope you liked this chapter. 3 Now you've got the gist of it, huh? And yeah, sorry for the Russia lovers. He's the bad guy here.**

**HETALIA / WOLVES OF MERCY FALLS IS NOT MINE.  
><strong>

**READ + REVIEW! :D  
><strong>


	3. MTA: Missing The Action

**for reference:**

**Emil - Iceland**

**Matthias - Denmark**

**Nikolaus - Norway**

* * *

><p><strong>C H A P T E R T H R E E<strong>

• ENGLAND }} **_a_**_rthur_ •

Did I still have it on me? Please, please, please have it on me.

Nope. No cellphone.

Guess I'll have to buy another new one.

At least Russia had supplied me with clothes. Kind of. Well, he didn't say no. It's hard to do that when your bones are reshaping to form a wolf's skeletal structure.

They were a little big, but I'd even found some change in one of the pockets. I stumbled to a payphone, feeling jumpy and queasy after shifting again. Shoving a few American quarters into the phone, I lifted it and listened for the dial tone before punching in a few hastily remembered numbers.

Pick up. Pick up, please, please pick up. Ple-

"Hello…?" The voice was soft; hushed, like it shouldn't be heard.

I hit the wall with my fist softly, needing to channel the wave of relief that just dragged me under. "Toris."

"Arthur." He responded. He sounded almost as relieved. "Where have you been?"

"I-uh, long story, and I am quite sorry for the interruption, but I need you to come pick me up."

"What, leave the middle of the meeting to come get you? Everyone wants to know where you've been. I'll be asked too many questions. And where's Russia?" I could hear the worry in his voice.

I bit my lip. "Sorry, even longer story. I will tell you later. Just-get me a ride!" And then, softer. "I don't think I'll last much longer today."

"Okay." He knew. "I'll g-uh-oh, Greece is looking this way. I think he noticed. Maybe he's still asleep. Um.. anyways, I'll get someone."

"Fast." I groaned, hanging the telephone and stepping a little ways to a street bench before plopping down on it.

Light clouds hid the sun, but they looked thin, like it could burst through any moment.

Stay away, please.

_So many 'pleases' today, Arthur_. I needed the cold to stay with me. I'd go to a meat locker if I could. I'd drown myself in arctic waters. I just need this twinge in my gut to go away. It was getting old.

Now that I've called Toris, I have a few minutes to myself, at the very least.

If I had been a normal person, I don't suppose I would have ever thought that someday, I would be a werewolf. I probably wouldn't have thought that I would be a country, either, though.

It had all happened so fast – isn't that what they always say? I can see why, now. 'It' is that dreaded noun that stands for every horrible thing that's ever happened to someone. 'It' always does happen very fast. So fast you barely remember it.

It wasn't supposed to happen. It was an accident, Toris said. Sometimes you just shifted, caused by stress or relief or heat or a dangerous situation.

In all honesty, it was probably more so my fault than Toris's. I knew what alcohol did to me. It altered reality completely. I've sworn it off, now; the risk is too great. What if I shifted in a bar? Well, now that I think about it, that's the best place to shift. Everyone's drunk anyways, so it's not a big deal!

I don't remember anything of that night, not even being bitten, or seeing Toris shift. I just remember a few fleeting moments of being wolf before waking up naked with a hangover next to Toris and a small russet wolf. I could barely catch what Toris was blubbering about before a human shot out of the wolf's skin, revealing Latvia.

So horrible. Sometimes I can't fall asleep because I'm stuck with those images. Lithuania explained to us, then, what had happened and that it was now our problem as well.

I don't think much of the beat-up white van that pulled up in front of me before the driver hits the horn and I jump at the sound. The windows are tinted, so I can't see who's driving, but I don't hesitate to wrench open the door and slide into the front seat. Cold air conditioning blasts into my face, sending a shiver down my spine but relaxing me enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief. I was in good hands, now.

"'Sup, Arthur. Good thing the awesome me came to bail you out, huh?"

Oh, yeah. Good thing. Great thing. I turned to see Gilbert grinning at me while he drove, scarlet eyes shifting between the road and me before settling on me with a mischievous glint in them.

"Keep your eyes on the road." I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and watched me for a few more moments before turning back to the streets he navigated. "Ah, that's right. I guess you would rather have a _hero_ rescue you."

I raised an eyebrow and shot a scathing look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" I gritted my teeth.

He shrugged. "Whatever you take it as."

This would be a lovely ride.

•••

• FINLAND }} **_t_**_ino_ •

Although tens of thousands of kilometers away from home, it's easy to imagine you're not too far if you keep your eyes on the sky. It spreads from here in America to Europe to Asia all the way down to Australia, and back again. It is something that is everywhere; that spans and connects us no matter what.

If you take your eyes off of the sky to your surroundings, it is too easy to point out the differences. Sometimes you don't always want that. You just want to revel in the time and place you are in, without worry or judgment.

It was so easy to forget where you were, what you were doing, and who you were when you lost yourself in the sky. Clouds hung from it at the moment, chugging along and letting the sun peek from it every so often. Far away on the horizon I could see the silhouettes of buildings.

Where was he?

I've been here for a week, in Vermont. Once arriving with the other Nordics we rented a cabin to stay at. We had it under our name for the next few weeks, a vacation for us so we could unwind. I don't think I'll be able to, but it will be quiet with four people in our cabin instead of the original five.

Maybe he'll sho-

"Tino?"

It was like stopping in a speeding car; the person's voice cut me short like a seatbelt, pulling me away from the sky and halting my thoughts. I glanced over to the few people that were waiting for me, and realized that the meeting had officially ended for today. There were only a few countries lingering, besides my friends.

"It's time to leave." He said quietly, and held out a hand for me to take.

I smiled sheepishly and didn't take it, scooting out my chair and standing up. My bones felt stiff after sitting for so long.

"Sorry," I breathed, gathering my messenger bag and slipping underneath it. They were a quiet bunch, and they didn't ask questions. It was nice.

I fell in pace with Emil, behind Nikolaus and Matthias. The two of them were arguing about something, like usual. My lips twitched upward in a small, sad smile. Even though he wasn't here, nothing much had changed.

That seemed wrong.

Maybe the other countries knew where he was. The thought had run through my head several times, and I mulled it over. He told me he was visiting Germany that day, to discuss exports. That must be it; Germany would know where to find him! Germany was such an organized person, there was no doubt he would remember.

"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Emil, who gave me a blank stare before nodding. I turned and stepped quickly towards the European nation, before remembering why I had hesitated to talk to him in the first place. Germany was much alike Berwald, but I didn't have much experience talking with him, making him even more intimidating than my missing-in-action friend.

But Italy, his lackey, was right next to him, and it dawned on me that he would probably have been there too. Germany himself was a little over-bearing, but with the childish Italian clinging to him all the time, it made him that much friendlier.

"Ve~! It's Tino!" Italy called once he saw me. I smiled at him and approached them.  
>"Hello," I said.<p>

Germany looked down at me, a glint of surprise in his eyes. I didn't speak to him directly very often. "Hello to you, Finland.."

I cleared my voice. "Have you seen Sweden lately?"

Germany looked as impassive as ever. Italy had discarded his friendly face, and looked more like his protector or his brother than himself.

I backtracked. "I-I mean… You might not have, but he's been gone for a while.. You-of course, you might not have anything to do with it – not that anything happened to him! – but I know he went to visit you on Tuesday…I think… no? Maybe not… I mean… I think that's what he said…I-" _Shut up, Tino,_ I told myself. _You're rambling._

"You are looking for Sweden?" Germany stated. It was meant to be a question, but it sounded like a statement.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to be steady.

"Ve~…" Italy breathed, before glancing up at Germany. The man ignored him.

"I haven't seen him." He deadpanned, before walking away.

Italy was left staring at me. It looked like he was going to start bursting crying.

"Oh.. Okay. That's fine!" I whispered after him, watching his figure pass the other Nordics, who were watching me.

"Tino." Italy put his hand on my shoulder, like he was comforting me. For someone with tears in the corner of his eyes, this seemed like an odd thing to do. I turned to him.  
>"I'm sure Berwald's fine, right?" He said. "He's probably just… sight-seeing! Yep. America has many monuments to visit in the East. He's probably looking around."<p>

I frowned. "Without us? Without telling us? He's not that kind of person. I don't know what happened to him, or where I can fi-"

Italy interrupted me, and I was so shocked I didn't say anything.

"Don't go looking for him, Tino. He's fine. I'm sure he'll be back real soon. Just… wait for him to find you. Don't look for him."

Then Italy turned and ran away, just like that.

Confused and shaken, I walked back to my neighbors and left the building with them. The walls blended around me, nothing registering and leaving me with something to remember it by.

Matthias looked over his shoulder at me in the lobby. "What did Germany and Italy say?"

They hadn't heard, I realized. They hadn't asked any questions until then, so I thought they'd already heard. I guess they were just quiet. I blinked at him, before forming an intelligent response. "Nothing much."

"That's too bad." He said. He didn't sound very upset about it. His voice was laced with falsity.

That seemed wrong. They all should have been upset by his disappearance. Something like a rock landed in my gut, and I frowned at the back of his head angrily, ridiculing his stupid hairdo from behind.

How could he not be worried about Berwald?

Was I the only one who cared about him?

•••

**haha, here's chapter three! Merry Christmas, everyone! :D**

**btw, Fin doesn't hate Den. x3 I hope I didn't make it seem like that.  
><strong>

**- Chat**


	4. When It's Broke, It's Perfect!

**C H A P T E R F O U R**

• PRUSSIA }} **_g_**_ilbert_ •

"Wooh." I whistled.

There are lots of things about wolves that I like.

They have really nice eyes.

They have a good, strong hierarchy.

The stories about them are always good.

They're pretty cool creatures, you know.

But I don't like it when one of them is clawing up the interior in the back of my car.

"And I thought you were annoying as a person." I grunted, jumping out of the front seat and going to the back, where I opened the doors and jumped back as a sandy bullet almost shot into me. I pressed myself up against the side of the garage, a rake digging into my back. England sniffed the air and then glared at me, deep emerald gaze narrowed at me. He growled, as if to say, "I don't like you any more now, so get the hell away."

"Lovely personality." I breathed, before inching my way towards the door leading into the house. His snarl ripped louder.

"Bah. Shut up already." I growled back at him. He lunged, snapping at the air I was a moment before. I jumped over a recycling bin and hurled myself at the door, praying briefly for it to open before I slammed it shut and fell to the cold ground in relief. I kissed it.

A snuffling sound, followed by a loud bang and a shattering noise, made me raise my head.

_Mein. Gott._

A wolf the color of the tundra raised its head from next to a cabinet, fixing me with a piercing ice-blue gaze. Its mannerisms told me it was a little surprised by my entrance, but otherwise it seemed impassive or at ease.

The room lay in ruins. Almost everything had been knocked over, including the vase that I heard fall. The wolf had carved its claw impressions into a wall, kind of like when little kids left their handprint in plaster. Paint chips covered the floor. The bottom corner of a maroon couch had been chewed off.

I got to my feet, too exasperated to swear. I shifted my position, getting ready to dart upstairs in case the wolf attacked.

The wolf turned back to a table leg, sniffing it. Apparently I was the least of its worries.

"Thanks." I feigned hurt and took a step to my left, before grabbing an animal catch pole, like the ones they use on TV. Bite marks lined the rod. I stepped towards the wolf, speaking to it in soft tones.  
>"Here, wolfy wolfy wolf. I'm not sure who you aree~ but I hope you like this song~… Please don't eat the awesome me~!" I sang.<p>

I guess it wasn't in the mood to be serenaded. It could have just booed me offstage, but instead it curled its lips and let out a small growl.

"Hey, come on. Don't be mean." I came closer. It seemed to piss the wolf off more. The wolf raised its hackles and tail.

In a quick movement I shoved the catch pole around the wolf's neck – it snapped sideways at it, fastening its jaws around the pole – and pulled it closed. The wolf jerked away, making me stumble forward a bit before I caught my footing and pulled it out from underneath the table.

"You're coming with me!" I announced to the wolf. It snarled. I took that as a "Hell yeah! I can't wait, Gilbert! You're so awesome!"

I yanked and kept the wolf a good distance from me. My hands were sweating as I tried to keep the grip on the pole. It kept jumping at me and twisting its neck, trying to paw the noose off from around its neck. I started to feel bad for it, but when it turned a cold blue gaze on me I just felt a bit pissed myself. I mean, look at what I had to clean up thanks to it!

The bathroom was connected to the room so it didn't take as long as you might think, and I backed the wolf into it and slipped the pole off, grasping the handle and shutting it as quickly as possible.

I slid down into a sitting position against the door and felt the wolf throw its weight against it before letting out an angry howl.

Damn. Two wolves in ten minutes. I should be on a game show, I'm so awesome.

•••

• CANADA }} _m__atthew _•

I love Alfred. I really do. But his sadness is so overwhelming I just couldn't take it anymore.

I left in our shared car, and was now driving comfortably down the winding Vermont roads, past innumerable forests of bare trees. I passed by quiet towns and drove into the heart of a city whose name I couldn't remember, but Alfred would be able to name like the back of his hand.

Gilbert's rented house wasn't too far from here, so that's where I was headed. Hopefully he was home, and not out drinking. It wouldn't be unlike him to be dead drunk at two in the afternoon. I glanced down at a written direction on my hand before taking a right turn and trudging the car down a lane decorated with decayed, wet leaves.

1947. 1947. 1947. 1947. 19- ah, there it was!

There wasn't a car in the driveway, but I shut off the ignition and jumped up the stairs to the door. There were voices coming from inside, like someone having an argument. I knocked. I listened more and heard somebody groan, before there was a bang from inside and a German curse. I rolled my eyes as the door opened and Gilbert looked down at me.

I was pretty confused. He was wearing an apron around his waist, and had rubber gloves on, the kind you use when cleaning. He stared at me, dumbfounded, as I peered around him to see an overturned bucket of water spreading from a carpet onto hardwood floors, an overturned table, and…what happened to that wall?

"What's up, Matthew?" He asked casually.

"Oh, not much. Just.. Yeah, I don't have a cool response. What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Doing? I'm not doing anything. Why?"

I shifted, raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "Alfred's driving me crazy." I responded honestly. "I came to hang out with you."

"Oh." He said, and shook his platinum hair out of his eyes. "That's too bad, I'm kind of busy."

"You just said you weren't doing anything." I deadpanned.

He frowned at me, seemingly annoyed that I had caught onto his mistake. "Well, you can't come in."

"I'll help you clean whatever you did." I said. It was odd that he wouldn't immediately invite me in and set me onto making pancakes. I looked at the mess again and he shifted in front of it. I turned my gaze to his and pouted before someone else's voice came towards us.  
>"Gilbert? You're letting all of the warm air in. Who's there?"<p>

It sounded like… Lithuania? That was odd. Had he and Gilbert been arguing?

"Fine, whatever. Just get inside and don't ask questions." He said, opening the door open more. I stepped past him and looked around at the mess.

It looked like a war zone, quite honestly, and with nations that statement held a heavy meaning. Lithuania was on his knees smearing plaster onto a wall that looked like it had been massacred by an angry kitten. He, too, was wearing an apron, and when I said hello he looked a bit unnerved.

"Oh, uh, hi Matthew." He said, before glancing at Gilbert and applying more plaster into the deep rivets.

"Okay.." I said, skirting the table to look at a couch. It looked like it had been chewed off. "What happened here, exactly?"

"Long story, it's not very important." Gilbert waved the question off, disappearing around a corner and coming back with a towel, which he set down on the carpet around the overturned bucket. He was soaking up the water.

Okay, I thought. Fine. Don't tell me what happened, see if I care.

He got to his feet and shoved a rag at me. "Lucky for you, we ran out of aprons. Start washing that table leg. I have my doubts about it."

Lithuania laughed a bit, shaking his head before capping the plaster.

I was confused, but I did as told. While we worked, I heard a few noises coming from down the hall that sounded suspiciously like a blender. An angry one.

Twenty minutes later and most of the damage had been cleaned up, regardless as to what had happened. The couch was inevitable: they would have to get a new one to pay for the damage, but the wall had been fixed, the table cleaned, broken remnants of glass swept up, and water drying up. It smelled like paint.

I followed Toris and Gilbert upstairs and I settled down on a couch, feet curled up beneath me, while Toris sat next to me and Gilbert sprawled out across the floor. American football was playing, but I wasn't really paying attention. Gilbert was drawing something in the carpet, so it didn't look like he was. I turned to look at Toris to see him watching me. He smiled sheepishly and glanced away.

I hadn't really been paying attention, but I noticed that the blender sounds had stopped, although I had heard them a good ten minutes ago from upstairs. I noticed this the same time I heard wet footprints through the hardwood kitchen. I almost jumped when I heard a heavily accented voice.

"Um. 'Scuse m'. C'n I have s'me clothes now?"

The three of our heads snapped over, and I could barely process the image. Gilbert looked a little surprised but he pulled his face into an impassive look; Toris looked upset about something but more surprised than Gilbert.

I, on the other hand, was shocked. So shocked. There isn't a word for how shocked, bewildered, and worried I was.

Sweden was peering around the corner, wet hair plastered to his forehead, the naked skin of his shoulder showing. Toris gave him some kind of response I didn't hear and Sweden left. A few moments later, Toris got to his feet and followed. Gilbert turned over onto his back and let out a soft groan, and my gaze shifted from the door frame to him.

I tried to form some kind of intelligent response to what had happened. "Um. Wh-I.. I mena.. You.. He-Swe-uh… What?" I can tell you I have a few small unwanted hunches in the back of my mind, things I would really rather not think about right now.

Gilbert sat up and shrugged, before grinning devilishly. "What? Variety is good."

•••

* * *

><p><strong>ohsnap.<strong>

**Kayso, I'll just say this right now** **: YOU'RE WELCOME! two chapters in a day? heckyeah!**

**well actually, that was so I could cushion the news that Canada is not a main character. I had originally planned on making him one, but had decided to add some variety with Finland. I was stupid and wrote this chapter in his perspective before realizing he wasn't supposed to be there. I'm lazy, and this was really the only way I could think of introducing Sweden as a wolf.**

**haha I like Prussia in this chapter. Cx  
><strong>

**merry christmas!**

**- Chat**


	5. You Hold Your Breath

**C H A P T E R F I V E**

• PRUSSIA }} _g__ilbert_ •

I had a good laugh teasing Matthew while he tried to regain his composure.  
>"That's-uh, that's… agh! Why did you have to say that?" He cried, putting his head in his hands and letting out an agonized, disgusted groan.<p>

I, in a quite un-manly manner, erupted into a fit of giggles. I have to admit to myself, later, that it was a little inappropriate to do, when I should have been figuring out why Berwald was naked in Toris's home. But, I hadn't thought about that, so I just laughed and shrugged Matthew off when he tried to push me over.

"Why are you laughing? Is it true?"

"Of course not." I said, getting up and brushing off my jeans. I left the living room we had been in and entered the kitchen before stomping upstairs, Matthew silently behind me. I hoped, for everyone's sake, the Scandinavian man was clothed the next time we saw him.

Fortunately for us, when I turned the bend warily, he was pulling a navy blue shirt over his head and was wearing a pair of jeans that looked a little too tight. I was wondering how we even _had_ clothes that would fit him, and where they came from. He was so.. big.

"So, I assume there is some sort of reasonable explanation for this?" Matthew said, staring between the three of them.

I plopped down on the chewed up couch. Berwald followed my gaze and fixed his icy eyes on the corner.

"I don't know, maybe. You did this, didn't you, big boy? Thanks. Now we have to replace it." I patted the armrest on the couch. Toris shot me an annoyed look. Berwald was blushing, and he shrugged an apology.

"Seriously, knock it off!" Matthew frowned deeply at me. "I want to know what's going on, and what that stupid couch has to do with it – ahh, okay, maybe not the couch." He pinched his nose. It seemed very _England_ of him to do.

Toris and I exchanged glances.

Maybe he wouldn't believe it. Maybe he'd try to check us into a mental hospital. Maybe we'd have to show him. But maybe he'd be able to answer the questions we had.

I'd only experienced the crazy-ass shift-into-a-wolf business about a month ago, while Toris had been dealing with it for six months, I think, and Raivis and Arthur a little less than that.

"Let's clear something up, first." Toris said, turning to Berwald. "Who bit you?"

Matthew made a confused gesture with his hands but Berwald interrupted him before he could say anything.  
>"Bit?"<p>

That didn't make sense. 'Bit' wasn't someone I knew. It just sounded like an echo.

"Yeah. We know what happens – who bit you?"

Berwald's electric gaze pulled itself away from Toris, and he then fixed it on me. I knew my gaze was unnerving, but his was a little, too. More so his scowl than his eyes. I raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't bitt'n. Just… t'rned." He said, shrugging.

Oh.

Toris stared at him for a few moments, before looking at me. Berwald and Matthew turned to look, too.

I didn't have anything to say.  
>"Bitten by what, exactly?" Matthew asked.<p>

"Ya don't know?" Berwald scowled at Matthew.

"No." He whispered.

This was giving me very bad flashbacks of a terrible chick flick Feliciano had forced me and Ludwig to watch. What was it called? Midnight? _Say it… out loud!_

"Wolf." Toris said.

The hum of the air conditioning filled the air for a few moments, and I focused on it until Matthew shook his head.

"Uh huh. Wolf. You know, Toris, I never took you as a drinker." He said, standing up.

"But.." Toris reached out, but didn't make any other move towards him.

Matthew looked between us for a little while; I'm not sure how long, before he stomped up the stairs. I listened to him grab his things and leave out the front door, nearly slamming it on the way out.

"You know, he's been kind of aggressive lately." I said, resting my head sideways in my palm. "Something must really be eating him. Pun intended." I smirked at Berwald and he glanced at the couch corner.

"Well, anyways…" Toris turned to Berwald. "You.. really weren't bitten?" He shook his head. "Then… that makes two, doesn't it, Gilbert?"

Put me in the spotlight, thank you. Of course, I love being center-stage, and I'm just so good at it I feel bad for making others watch me, knowing that they will never be as accomplished as me. "Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so." I fumbled. "I mean, supposing we weren't all dead drunk and someone forgot biting me."

Toris shook his head. "Nobody's been drinking since they shifted."

I shrugged. "Well, hell if I know what happened. The important thing is that we're all wolves now, and Matthew will probably blab to Alfred who will tell the whole world! Yippee."

"I don't th'nk so. M'tt d'sn't seem like th't kinda p'rson." Berwald spoke up, before looking back down at the couch.

"Doubt it." I scoffed.

"Whether or not Matthew is going to tell everyone isn't important right now. Why did you two shift into wolves if you weren't bitten? Does it have something to do with our relationship with one another?" Toris asked, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You tell me," I snapped.

Talking about me like a science experiment. There wasn't anything scientific about me, and I wasn't a specimen. Toris looked at me for a long while, meeting my blazing gaze.

"I don't know." He whispered.

No shit, Sherlock. I didn't even have an answer. You were supposed to know your own body. But not I, nor Toris, nor Raivis, nor Arthur could explain why I had shifted, and they wouldn't be able to explain why Berwald had either. We were just lucky no one had seen him. I'd almost been caught myself, caught in the dead of the night on a _nearly_ empty street.

Perhaps he was our saving grace; our panacea. Because I'm sure it's more than just 'wolf' that I needed curing from.

•••

• AMERICA }} _a__lfred _•

Did I do something wrong?  
>I want to know; I can fix it.<p>

Was it something I said?

Tell me; I'll take it back.

I miss the touch of my fingers against the back of your hand. You let go.

I miss the sound of your yelling. The silence hurts worse.

I'd never found myself a real big fan of romantic movies, and especially not books, but now I felt as if I was swimming in one.

I'm not quite sure what I did to upset you, or why you had to leave. Ironic, isn't it? Our roles have been reversed, Arthur, but I can't help but feel that what I did so long ago might have been worse. So, I'm sorry.

I put a stop on the music blasting from my tiny stereo in the corner of my room, before leaving silently and trudging downstairs. Matthew left a little while ago, but he's back now, and is making lots of noise in the kitchen, so I want to see what's up.

When I approached the doorframe I could hear him muttering under his breath, something he only did when he was angry. "Stupid…ert…yeah right… like I'd!...ieve… wolf…shape...ters…"

I stepped inside to see him whisking furiously at a bowl of pancake batter. His red jacket was covered in tawny spots.

"Woah, dude, calm down. It's not cement." I took it away from him, setting it on the counter.

Matthew frowned down at his shirt and shook his hands around. "Not everyone can _mix cement _with their bare hands, Alfred."

"Yeah, well…well…Whatever." I said.

I sat in the kitchen for a few minutes before being served pancakes by my dearest brother, all the while listening to him slamming things on already beat-up counters and scoffing, shaking his head. Normally I wouldn't have stuck around when he was angry like this, but I was getting his pancakes out of it. How could I say no?

I munched on mine silently, keeping a wary eye on him. He reminded me of a caged animal, so much pure emotion bottled up something small could set it off. Dangerous, I'd say.

He paused, seeming to notice me staring at him.

"What's up with you?" He snapped.

I fumbled over my words. "Nothing." I said innocently.  
>He held a thoughtful gaze for a moment before snorting, and then laughing as he got up and dumped his dishes in the sink, before casting a last look at me and leaving the room.<p>

What the hell.

•••

**here's another chapter! :3 sorry it took a while. I try spacing them out. love you all!**


	6. If I am Not a Man

**C H A P T E R S I X**

• ENGLAND }} _a__rthur_ •

The first feeling that crept into my fingers was a chill. It was cold; a good sign. I was happy to be human once more, but was quite uncomfortable sprawled across the ground in a dark place. At first I felt shock as I looked around, afraid I was once again in the clutches of Russia. Then I pushed myself up, and hit my head on the underbelly of a car.

I swore loudly, grasping my head as I pulled myself out from underneath the beat-up van Gilbert drove around before making my way blindly across the garage to a few locked safety bins. I pulled above me on a string, and light filled dimly illuminated the stuffy garage. I pulled a key from underneath a welcome mat and shoved it into the lock, twisting and pulling as it fell away. I plunged into the bin and fished out a shirt that was a little too big and a pair of jeans.

The second feeling that crept into my stomach was hunger. I wanted food; fast. I wasted no time in heading inside – casting a few confused looks to the room; why was the couch chewed up? Did I do that? – and up the stairs, not even saying hello to Toris as I passed him to the refrigerator. Good thing I had some leftover scones stored; I pulled one out and began munching on it, sans jam.

"Ah- Arthur. You're back." Toris noted, giving me an awkward smile.

Awkward. He always seemed to be so, whether to strangers or old friends, but I knew him as a sturdy person. "And glad to be so, Toris." I said.

"I'd assume." He responded. He looked shaken. "We have to talk about something, though. Are you stable?"

I frowned at him a bit. Talk about something. "Did I do something?"

He shook his head. "Not that I believe. Are you stable?"

I nodded, and he motioned with his hand to follow. I abandoned my scone – it was a little stale, anyways. I wondered how long I'd been out of it – and followed Toris down the hall and upstairs, to where I heard Gilbert singing loudly – something in German.

I entered the room to find Gilbert tapping a chair's arm in tune with whatever he was listening to, and Sweden watching him stoically. As I walked in he turned to look at me, no emotion in his face, like usual.

It took me a few moments to formulate an answer. "What's going on here?" I tried to ask casually.  
>"The Swede turned into a wolf on us." Gilbert called, switching back to German in a second.<p>

I glanced from Berwald to Toris, who nodded affirmation.

I leaned against the wall. "How?"

Berwald shrugged.

"He said he wasn't bit. He just shifted. We were waiting for you." Toris explained, making up for Berwald's inarticulateness.

I spread my hands out. "What for? What are we supposed to talk about? We don't have any basis on what's going on." I said, a bit agitated.

Toris looked a bit disappointed I didn't have some kind of mind-blowing answer for us.

"Well, it likes variety." Gilbert said, accent more acknowledged after singing. "I mean, we, quite frankly, have nothing in common besides being men. We're of complete different ethnicities."

I was surprised he knew the word 'ethnicities'. "You're right, at least."

"So.. 't's spread'n." Berwald said gruffly. All three heads of ours turned to look at him. He stared back at us, waiting for an answer.

Toris cleared his throat. "I-it would appear.. that way."

He didn't seem to be too comfortable around Berwald. The man was a little intimidating, I guess – of course, not for someone like me, no, not at all – but I wondered if there was something more, perhaps. Bah, right.

"Then we have to stop it from spreading further." I said, authority in my voice.

Gilbert threw his ruby gaze to me. "How're we going to do that, _my liege_?" He said casually.

My eyes narrowed and my reply was short. "Don't look to me for all the answers. We'll have to work together to formulate an answer."

He looked away and I looked out the window at the same scenery we'd been watching diligently for the past three months or so. Dead leaves fluttered around restlessly.

Originally it had just been Toris, of course. He had purchased this house under his name after an almost-disasterous plane ride from Vilnius, Lithuania, to America for a meeting. Before then he hadn't known that he himself would be shifting into a wolf; he only knew he had been bitten by one. He decided it was too risky to try flying back, and had settled down here in Vermont.

Months later he had infected Raivis and me, a horrible accident in which he still apologized profusely for. It was getting annoying, honestly, and if he wasn't good of heart I would have slapped him by now. Raivis moved in permanently, and I travel from an apartment I rent downtown. It is my second home, and I am thankful to him for letting me use it.

Gilbert, just a week or so ago, had shifted, and had evacuated Ludwig and Feliciano's shared home on the outskirts of this town out of fright. I don't think he wants his brother to see him like this, and I can't imagine what would happen to Italy if he witnessed him shifting. Ludwig, from what I've heard, is confused how his always-dependent sibling had suddenly decided to move out.

I've been watching, just waiting for someone to discover us. You'd think it to be easy for our governments to realize that we were acting strange, but now that I think about it, we didn't talk to our bosses very often. And how many times did we have a say in an important decision? We may be the embodiments of the country, but I think we represent our people - not our government.

"Well… let's get started, anyways." Toris said, moving across the room.

•••

• AMERICA }} _a__lfred_ •

The house was cramped, too full of raging emotions. Matthew had left the house to escape me, but now I found myself escaping him, and thus maybe freeing him, too.

I preferred walking places around town. So, once I got downtown I made a purchase and set off towards Arthur's dressed in nice, but casual clothing, a bag of _real food_ in my hands. Not his crappy _English food._

It was a nice day out; the sun was warm against my back, but it was pretty chilly, so jackets were necessary. I passed mothers with young children, senior citizens, and college students, enjoying a day off perhaps. These were my people. The feelings I got when looking at them were like a milkshake; so blended, it was too hard to pick apart. I was proud of them and what they had to go through each day. I was jealous of them because they had normal lives. It made me feel awkward being around them; I wasn't like them. What if something slipped out?

Plus, they were part of me. That was just… weird. Did I live in each of them? If they all died, did I, also? Perhaps that was why Prussia was still around – his bloodlines were passed down even today. If a nuclear bomb shattered America and killed everyone, would I cease to exist?

I entered his apartment building, nodding to the doorman, who in return gave me a dip of his hat. _You are me,_ I thought.

A few flights of stairs later I was at Arthur's front door, a small hopeful smile on my face. I ran a hand through my hair and knocked on the door, as taught.

I waited for a few minutes, trying to listen for footsteps or some kind of noise, but I didn't hear anything and no one answered the door. So I rang the doorbell and knocked again.

No response.

Was he just angry at me? Or had something happened?

"Arthur!" I hissed through the door, standing on my tippy-toes to see through his eyehole. My glasses pushed against my face edgily, so I backed off and knocked one more time. Nothing.

"Are you just ignoring me?" I called quietly, not wanting to bother his neighbors.

"Pleeease~! Can I come in? I brought McDonald's!" Haha, now he wouldn't be able to resist!

I shifted my weight on my heels, contemplating what to do. Finally, I gave into my instincts and broke down the door.

The apartment was empty. I'd only been inside once or twice.

It smelled like him.

I walked the rooms to find no trace of Arthur so I returned to the kitchen, where a tea cup was abandoned, half-drunk. I placed the bag of food beside it and scrounged through his drawers for paper. Finally, I found a folded-up grocery list and a pen and set to writing a note.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Hiya!_

_I'm at your apartment right now, but seeing as I'm writing this, you're not here! D:_

_I don't know if you got my calls. I was hoping to get together for lunch sometime, but maybe you're avoiding me. ;u; I'm not sure._

_Anyways, I brought you some food. With the way you eat, it should last you the next week or two. Don't worry, everything will stay good: I know from experience! So, trust me, because a hero never lies! ;D_

_Love, Alfred. 3_

A wave of déjà vu swept over me as I finished. It seemed…funny. Like I've done this before. Have I? I don't usually write notes, or letters, especially not to Arthur, so why would I feel this way?

It crashed over me like a tidal wave, like I was being dragged to the bottom of the ocean to rest fitfully. I can remember writing my name in bright red crayon, chubby, small fingers trying to grasp it and hold it correctly as I misspelled every word. I don't remember what I was writing. Just _Love, Alfred. _

I'm not a fan of that kind of history, but I don't think they had crayons in the 1700's.

Odd.

•••

• FINLAND }}_ t__ino_ •

"Tino, you're pacing a rut into the floor, and I'm not paying for that~!"

I flinched a little at Matthias' voice and froze before looking up to see him watching me, Nikolaus peering around him and Emil taking a few glances from where he was pretending to be bored on the couch.

What do I say? I don't really have many intelligent responses to that, besides looking bashful and apologizing. I'm a little sick of apologizing to Matthias, though. What would Berwald do?  
>I pull my face into a scowl and glare at him.<p>

It elicited laughter from him, something I hadn't been expecting. He crossed the room in a few steps and pulled me into a sideways hug. I gasped and wriggled a bit.  
>"What was that, Tino? Haha! Your face! Let's go get some coffee. Coffee, Nikolaus?"<p>

Nikolaus shrugged.

"Coffee it is! C'mon, Tino, let's go." He said, pulling me forward.

In a hurry I was rushed out the door, with hardly enough time to throw on an old jacket of mine and my shoes before being whisked outside by him. It was pretty warm outside, so I didn't see why we were getting coffee. In my opinion, he really didn't need any more coffee.

Matthias doesn't say anything as we walked to the local café, but I noticed that his gaze kept shifting along as we walked. Like he's expecting something. I try not to feel suspicious, for his sake. I know he's not a bad person.

He stops abruptly, and I almost fall as I stop, too.

He snapped his fingers. "Ah, crap! I forgot my wallet. Let me run back and get it; you go ahead." He said, turning.

"It's okay, I have mine." I smiled at him, glad to relieve him of his mistake.

He shook his head. "No, just go on."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But – I have it right here! Ah - Matthias!" I call after him, but he's already turned and running back.

Sometimes I don't understand him. But, whatever. I shake my head and keep walking the familiar path to the quaint café. I smile up at the sky. I shudder once and try to ignore an itch I have on my arm.

It's been maybe five minutes since Matthias's been gone, but who's counting?

Wow. It's actually really hot out here. I can't help but shrug off my jacket and hang it over my shoulder, but I still feel like I'm sweating. Silly American weather. I'm so used to the cold, I guess even little climate changes just set me off!

The itch won't go away. I look over my shoulder, but there's no sight of Matthias. I wonder if maybe I should just turn around. I don't want coffee; I just want to go home. I feel a little queasy.

What if I collapse? There's no one around to help me – no, I'm a country. I don't get sick like this unless something bad has happened. I'm not having a seizure or a stroke or something. Suddenly, it felt all too important to get back to Finland.

The heat is overwhelming. I staggered a bit, trying to keep my balance, but it's too hard to stay up for some reason. I fell to the ground and then tried to get back up again, wobbling on uneasy legs before dropping to the ground.

What's going on? I panic. The itch is spreading, going right from an annoyance on the surface of my skin to a tingling pain in my bones.

"Matthias!" I cried, hoping that he might have be able to hear me, but I know he's probably only back at the house by now.

In a fleeting moment, I went black. I wasn't aware of how I felt, physically or psychologically. I wasn't aware of where I was, who I was, or why. I was nothing and everything at the same time.

And then I was a wolf.

I looked around, shaking in this new skin. The scents were stronger, the colors more vibrant. The world was new. _Uusi._ It was odd having a different perspective on everything, odd to be on four legs instead of two. It felt wrong and right at the same time.

But I was still me. I glanced around, thoughts too cluttered to pick apart.

There were some things I couldn't remember, but I knew that Matthias would be here soon. I knew that Matthias was a human. My guts knew that I should leave. My guts knew that humans were bad. What to believe?

I was Tino. I was Finland. I was a wolf. I was a human. I was too many things at once.

_Stay out of sight._

I crossed the hard black ground that smelled of metal, and dove into the bushes on the other side. At least they were alive, and real. I vaguely wondered if I was hallucinating, or had died. I didn't think so.

I wandered around for a while, trotting and then walking, sniffing and then running. I caught a whiff of Matthias.

_Stay away._

But I should find him, right? He was going to come back. He'd know what to do. He was always the _big brother_.

_No!_ My instincts shouted at me, but I followed the scent trail anyways. It brought me through places I'd never thought he'd be, through alleys and parks that he shouldn't have been in. He was supposed to be home. Not here. This wasn't home, I think.

The scent grew stronger, and suddenly he was there, talking in low tones. He didn't look like the Matthias I knew, but he looked like him, too. The other person – was it a person? – looked familiar. The name came slowly at me, and I had to grasp for it just to keep it there for a moment; Russia. Their scents mingled. They were close together. One of them seemed happy.

I was too confused by this. Russia and Denmark shouldn't have been talking. They were strangers, for all I knew, connected by nothing but meetings. My mind exploded.

The wolf took over for me.

_Stay away,_ it informed me.

I gave in and backed off, ears flattened against lupine head, before turning tail and fleeing the scene.

This was the Matthias I remembered. I'd thought that giving him a second chance would allow me to get to know him, but I guess I already did in the first place.

* * *

><p>I'm sorry this is so lateeee ;u; I've had such a writer's block lately for this story.<p> 


	7. Pictures I Tried to Forget

**C H A P T E R S E V E N**

• AMERICA }} _a__lfred_ •

I was making myself a sandwich when I blacked out.

"_More! Please, Daddy?" It was a child._

_Somebody laughed. "Now, now, Alfred, you've had enough!"  
>"I didn't even get any!" Came a squeak nearby.<em>

"_Sorry, Matthew!" The child giggled, picking up a corner of a grilled sandwich and passing it to a blond-haired child. He smiled back and took it from him._

_A tall man with broad shoulders and sandy colored hair sat down beside the children, holding a sandwich of his own._

"_Here's to real food, kids!" He said, thrusting half of it in the air in a salute. The two children raised theirs, too, giggling uncontrollably. They then took a few bites and proclaimed it the best sandwiches ever._

"_Way better than your mom's idea of food, huh? Haha!" The man chuckled. Then he grew serious and hushed the kids as they mumbled their agreement. "Now, don't tell Amelia I said that."_

"_Don't tell me what?" A curly-haired woman peered around the corner, hand on her hip._

"_Daddy told us not to tell you that his food was better than yours." Matthew informed her, eyes wide and serious._

_The man shook his head in dismay and the woman rolled her eyes. _

"_Oh, really now?" She said, waving it away. She whispered, "Well, make sure you don't tell him that I love him anyways, okay?"_

"_Okay!" The two children chorused, before turning to their father with the promise on their lips._

Note to self: Sandwiches may cause a full belly, sleepiness, and blacking out with images of children with the same name as you.

That's how I woke up with an onion on my shirt and a tomato covering one of my eyes. I quickly wiped it off onto the floor and staggered up, grasping the counter and staring at the bread I had laid out.

What.

Was.

That?

I knew my history. I was America. I've been around for hundreds of years; I never had a father. I never had a mother. England raised me, not parents. I barely ever saw Canada. So why were the two of us living under the same roof with two strangers we called our parents?

A sigh came from nearby as I moved back and almost slipped on the tomato I had dropped; it was Matthew, and he had just walked into the kitchen.

"Alfred, try to be more careful the next time you make a sandwich, please." He said, watching me with a critical eye.

"Hey!" I said. "I fainted!"

He rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, okay. Just make sure you clean up, okay?"

I pouted, a silent protest as he turned to leave, before the flashback came to mind.

"Hey, Matthew! Before you go, can I ask you something?" I asked hopefully, smiling brilliantly at him. He stopped and looked at me. I felt nervous.

"Um, so… yeah. Do you remember anything about a woman named Amelia?"

His face was dubious. "Earhart? Yeah, Alfred, everyone remember-"

"No, no no no. Not Earhart. A… a mother? To... um. To us?"

I felt so stupid. Matthew looked at me like I_ was_ stupid.

"Maybe you really did faint, Alfred. You should… get some sleep." He said, before turning to leave.

"Wait, answer my question!" I called after him, scrambling out the kitchen.

"Of course not, Al. We've never had a mother. Stop with your crazy fantasies."

His voice sounded slightly bitter. He searched my face and then left me standing alone in the hallway.

So maybe I was going crazy. It wasn't a sufficient answer to put me at ease, but it helped that he hadn't snapped at me, which was the usual response I had been getting from him. I think it has something to do with _Prussia_, but I'm not sure. He always gets a little angry at his friend every once in a while, but this is the worst I've seen him.

Oh well. I guess it's not really my problem. I finished making my sandwich and sat down at the cramped table, munching away.

•••

• FINLAND }} _t__ino_ •

I'm shivering when I wake up.

I have no idea where I am. It smells like a dumpster. It's really dark. I'm not sure why I'm shivering, because it feels like an oven, wherever I am. I pull my naked knees against my chest and wrap my arms around them. It feels safer, but I'm still shaking.

There are many things that I want to think about, but I mostly just want to stay human. I want to stay _me_. Whatever… _that_ was, I don't want it to happen again. But it feels like it will. My stomach does somersaults and I clutch my skin, wishing to tear it off and expose the _human_ skeleton beneath, proof that I'm me. It is physically impossible to change skeletons and live.

It's too hot in here.

After a while – I'm not sure how much time goes by, maybe only a few minutes, maybe an hour – the heat starts to wear off, and I feel sturdier. My eyes have adjusted to the dim light, and it looks like I'm behind a warehouse. There's a dead mouse lying by me, so that would probably explain the garbage smell. After I noticed it I scooted away._  
><em>I almost feel normal in a few more minutes. I get to my feet, leaning against the building for support if I need it, but I find that I'm okay without it. I walk bare-footed to the end of the building and look around the corner: I realize the sun is setting. I have to get home quick. I recognize the street, amazingly enough. It's a good half-hour's walk away from our apartment building.

I would start running now. I wanted to get to the apartment as soon as possible, before I could change again, if I was going to. I didn't know if this was permanent or not. I didn't know how often it happened. I knew nothing.

The only problem was that I was naked. I didn't wake up with my clothes and I'm on the other side of town, so there's no way I'd be able to find them. That really sucks, too. I liked that jacket; that jacket was a gift from Berwald.

Well. What a dilemma…

A flicker of light caught my eye, and my gaze drifted to it. It took a moment to focus on it, but as soon as I saw it I knew what I had to do. My mind knew it was the logical and, honestly, the only thing I could do, but my heart saw it as terribly immoral and wrong.

_You can't do that!_ I cried.

_But you have to. It's your only chance._

Somehow I guess I knew I couldn't stay mad at myself for long, so I then found myself sauntering towards the light, poised to steal a hobo's clothes.

A thought popped into my head; _what if __**he**__ doesn't have any?_

This almost made me laugh, but I had to keep quiet.

The hobo doesn't seem to notice me as I come closer, or maybe he's just ignoring me. He's an older man, almost bald, with a large nose. I kind of wonder whether or not it would make me feel better that he's older, or if it would've been easier with a young person. I can't dwell on that.

"Ah-... Hello." I said, approaching the fire. The light plays on his cheek. I realized that he's hunched over the fire, almost as if he's in pain. When he didn't respond, I reached out and grabbed his arm softly, all thoughts of thievery stolen from my mind. I hope he doesn't mind that I'm naked.

"You…! Ah! Sta…stay away from me!" He pushed me away and I stumbled back a little, regaining my balance easily. He, however, staggered backwards, clinging to one of his arms. As he fell backwards I saw that his hands and arm were stained with blood.

"Sir, are you okay?" I bent over him and reached for his arm, but he flailed out and kicked weakly at me. It was obvious he didn't want help, but how could I just leave him like that? I kneeled beside him, gritted my teeth, and pulled his hand away from his arm, him feebly thrashing about underneath me.

My stomach flipped in my abdomen at seeing the wound. His arm was covered in red rivets, and – dear God – part of his arm is missing. Like… torn off. Bitten, maybe.

Oh. What… No way!

I backed off, dread and horror and guilt and anguish growing in the pit of my stomach and I wonder if I had done this to him. My teeth felt too heavy in my mouth. Nothing tasted like blood… but what did that mean? Nothing.  
>I tried to pull of his jacket so I could staunch the blood, but he was already pale and his movements were growing weaker. I left it and kneeled there for My eyes had adjusted to the firelight by now, and I saw that there was blood all over his coat arms and dripping onto his shirt.<p>

He nudged away from me, frightened gaze pinned on me. It didn't move off of me, even after his pulse stopped. I tried not to think about the fact that I was undressing a dead hobo that I may or may not have killed when I turned into a wolf – I mean, why would that cross my mind? – while I shrugged off his pants and pulled them onto myself, before warming my hands at the fire for a moment and taking off in the direction of the house.

•••

Taking a shower not only pulled the dirt from my skin, but also the feelings from the night. No longer was the guilt of what I had, may have, and may not have done. I felt less and less disgusted with myself as I drew clean clothes around me and discarded the old, brushing my teeth about three times before I felt comfortable enough to call myself human.

But I guess I had shells; different layers. Once the remorse and shame were washed away, I was left with a feeling of pure fright and confusion. I felt lost. Which way was I to go from here?

I felt dirty; impure. I might have killed someone. I stole their clothes. I turn into a wolf. Which was the biggest sin? And was there any way to stop it?

I had been shocked when I was told I was a country. It seemed so odd, so hard to believe! I was young, but it still took me a while to believe what the elder nations had told me. Now, what was I to expect?

What was I supposed to do? How do I stop this? Was this going to happen often? Where would it happen? Is there a reason for it? Is there a reason it's me, and no one else?  
><em>This<em> is my body, the one I'm in now. I rub my arms and feel goosebumps on them. I am Tino, not a wolf. I can't let it happen again, I decide, and get to my feet, trying to leave behind my fright and disappointment with myself.

I traipsed down the stairs from my rented room, into the empty kitchen. I was only glad for a few things, one of them being that nobody was home when I returned. I was able to slip in unnoticed by anyone, and I was astounded with my luck. However, them not being here also meant that Berwald had not returned yet. I think they would have stayed had he.

Maybe I didn't really eat a chunk out of that old man's arm, because I was pretty hungry. I rifled through the fridge in hope of something filling to eat, but as I do not have a taste for beer or Hákarl, I turn tippy-toed to the cabinets. I could see the box of salmiakki I kept on the top shelf, and I reached for it. Some people might call me short for this, – not that I am! – but I usually do have Berwald get it down for me.

My fingers are just grasping it when I hear a key click in the door and someone walks into the room.

Panic shot through me and I lost my balance, knocking the salmiakki off the shelf and sending me and it both sprawling to the floor. The licorice exploded out of the box, strewn across the floor in a manner that I know will take me forever to clean up. Like a frightened rabbit I look up for my hunter, only to find out that my predator is just another familiar face.

_Perkele…_

"Ahhaa, Berwald!" I said, getting to my feet and flashing him a sheepish smile, hoping it will hide my absolute horror at him coming home. I guess that sounds pretty bad. It wasn't horrible that he was here, it was horrible he was here now.

He stared at me in confusion, electric blue gaze fixed on me. A feeling in my stomach sent a shudder down my spine and I almost yelped out loud, so afraid I was going to turn into a wolf from it. I tried to convince myself that I wasn't going to as I hurriedly swept up the salmiakki into a pile with my hands.

He stared at me for a good minute, saying naught a word, and left the room, leaving me staring at the spot where he had been. I tried sorting my thoughts, but then he returned with a broom and dustpan in hand.

"M've, Tino." He grunted, making a little motion with his hand for me to do so. I almost resisted him and tried to insist on me cleaning up, but I knew I wouldn't win so I just got to my feet and stepped away. He started sweeping it up, focused on the task. He wore his usual serious face, and it was moments like this that made me want to giggle at him. Such a severe look for a silly task like sweeping!

But I couldn't, at a time like this. I took the dustpan from his hand and squatted down, holding it against the floor to help him.

_Don't shift,_ I told myself. _You are not a wolf. You are Tino. So you're not going to be a wolf. Not in front of Berwald, especially. He'll think you're a freak._ _**You**_ _think you're a freak._

_Not true,_ I shot back.

Yes true. I brushed off my jeans while he threw away the remnants of food, my dinner gone.

"So.. Um, where were you?"

Berwald turned to look at me and I regretted my question immediately. Maybe he wasn't looking extra-fierce like I thought he was; maybe, after all these years, I still couldn't read his feelings. He shrugged, and I didn't ask him again, though I knew the question would eat at me later. I'd wonder why he hadn't answered and then wonder if it was my fault and the thought that maybe he saw me as a wolf will cross my mind and I'll be terrified like I am right now.

"Ya h'ngry?" He asked.

"Nope!" I squeaked, scooting around him to avoid his gaze. I felt like an ass, doing so. He was my closest friend, whether he'd deny it or not, but I couldn't find the heart to spend another second so close to him. I wanted to tell him that I missed him, that I was glad he was back, and I wanted to know where he'd been and why so long. I couldn't.

"Um. I'm… busy. Bye." I said, casting a look over my shoulder at his confused look before jumping up the stairs two-at-a-time.

I collapsed in my room after shutting and locking the door quietly.

_What was I going to do? _

•••


	8. No Taking Back

C H A P T E R E I G H T

• ENGLAND }} _a__rthur_ •

I tightened my jacket a little more, though I didn't complain about the cold breeze blowing through the trees. I wasn't sure if Raivis beside me was shivering from fright or cold or both, but he seemed spooked in this forest. I don't think he liked being a wolf very much; perhaps the least of all of us.

Our feet slid smoothly into the ground below. It had rained the night before and the dead leaves of last autumn were slippery. I was sure if I were to step on solid ceramic flooring, my shoes would squeak to no end.

"Do…do you think he's around here?" Raivis asked for the fifth time that day.

"Maybe, maybe not." I said tightly, growing a bit annoyed with the boy. "We won't be able to tell until we stumble upon a wolf, will we?"

Raivis shrugged and glanced around nervously. I rolled my eyes and walked ahead, peering around a few trees and shrubs. Raivis reminds me of Matthew a bit. I guess the only difference is that Matthew doesn't get drunk on the weekends.

We had been searching for him for what seemed like an hour, and it was wearing out my patience. The only thing this was good for was thinking, but I didn't want to do that either right now. I checked behind another empty bush, wariness growing in my stomach.

"Hey, E-Arthur?" Raivis whispered from close by. I flinched, surprised by his nearness; I'd had no idea he had come over by me. I frowned at his almost-slip-up and raised my eyebrows in question.

"I don't think he's around here." He concluded.

"No shit, She-" I paused. "Wait, do you hear that?"

The two of us listened closer, and then it came again. A shuffling of leaves that didn't belong. A soft, drawn-out whimper. We looked at each other and I took off in the direction.

"Wait, Arthur!" He whispered hushedly, grasping at my arm.

"What?"

"What if it's not him? Be-um, be careful. He won't recognize you as a wolf." Raivis informed me.

"Yes, I do know that by now, Raivis, thank you." I brushed him off gently and crossed a clearing, ducking behind a few pine trees and almost stepping on a dirty white-and-gray wolf. If not for the loud warning growl, I would be kibble.

Raivis had followed me and I backed up into him, not waiting for him to move as I pushed him away from the wolf and moved around the tree to get a better look.

"Whoooo, Gilbert!" I whistled, peering through the branches at the enraged wolf. "You look even worse as a wolf than you do as a human."

Raivis peered around the tree and gasped in surprise. Gilbert's ruby gaze shifted to him and then back to me, lips curled and teeth exposed in a snarl. His underbelly and flank were littered with mud and blood, one of his forepaws twisted and held closer to his chest. It didn't look like his day in the forest had been good.

Raivis voiced my question. "Wh-what happened?" He looked around nervously. I didn't bother answering with my theories, too afraid I'd scare him off for good.

I squatted down to look at Gilbert on the same level. He stopped growling for a moment, whimpered, and then growled again. We stared at each other for minutes as I debated what I could do with him injured and a wolf, when his head snapped to the left and got to his feet sans forepaw. I stood up quickly and looked over in the direction, wariness pooling in my stomach.

A beige-ish wolf was peering through the undergrowth, purple gaze on us calmly. A white wolf peered over its shoulder, and a gray one kneeled by its paws. The first wolf's muzzle was tinged with blood.

"Damnit." I said, balling my fists. I could feel Raivis shaking behind me.

"A-arthur." He whispered.

I ignored him and glanced around. The white wolf moved forward with a growl, but the beige one snapped at it and it stayed put. What were we supposed to do?  
>"Ah, a-arthur!" He pressed on.<p>

"What is it?" I hissed.

"You-you know who that is… right?" I turned and looked down at him, his indigo eyes wide and frightened.

"R-russia." His voice was barely inaudible, but I heard him, and the wolves seemed to, too. The white one growled again, and Gilbert started snarling right back at her.

Raivis's shivering grew worse, to the point where he gasped and grasped onto my shoulder for support. I lost interest in the wolves for a moment and twisted sharply to catch him as he stumbled, gut wrenching in protest.

"Raivis? Everything's fi-…" I trailed off, watching him convulse. I realized that he wasn't just scared. I stepped back just in time for him to break himself into pieces and reassemble himself, a horrible puzzle connecting in his anatomy. He was Raivis and he was Latvia and then he was nothing and then he was wolf. He crouched beside Gilbert with his russet fur standing out against the bigger wolf's white, eyes shifting between me and Russia so quickly I'd figure he might get dizzy.

Russia took a step forward, ears erect and tail slightly raised. My gut twisted again. It was a warning.

I wish Toris was here. I wish anyone was here. I wish Alfred was here.

Then the white wolf jumped forward and Russia didn't hold it back, heading towards Gilbert and Raivis with its jaws spread wide. In a split second I disintegrated and pulled myself together again, letting out a cry of pain before I stumbled onto my paws and intercepted it.

I could smell the wolves now; besides Russia, the two were female, and I could only guess who they were. Russia had jumped forward as well, but the other wolf lingered behind, looking distraught. The white she-wolf twisted away from me and snapped close to my muzzle before I pulled away.

The beige wolf was moving towards Gilbert. He stumbled forward, still holding his paw to his body, but Raivis pushed him away from the male. He barked something to Gilbert I didn't catch.

It was all instincts now. I let out a snarl and lunged at the wolf, biting at her shoulder like it was tissue paper. She didn't take any time to recover like I expected, completely ignoring the wound to her shoulder and launching herself at my neck. I was shocked, taking too much time to react.

_Move!_ I shouted at myself.

Someone moved before me. I was fully prepared for her teeth to slice my windpipe open, but someone had other intentions. I became aware of almost everything: the look in the wolf's eyes –_ Belarus_, I told myself; the sound of Raivis's whimper-growling as he fought, and the sound of Gilbert snarling in my ear.

Then the she-wolf grew twice the size and split herself apart – it was Gilbert, I realized. He snapped her away from me and was ripping at her face as she scrambled underneath him. She writhed and then clamped her jaws around his leg, sending him tumbling to the ground.

_Reinforcements, _I needed; he needed. I leaped in front of Gilbert and pawed at her face, biting at her muzzle as she tried to shake me off. Then I heard a snap from across the clearing and the wolf squirmed her way away from me, slinking back to the shadows after the beige male, with a last hateful glance towards me.

I stumbled over to Raivis, exhaustion setting in. He was pressed up against the ground, breathing heavily. I couldn't hear Gilbert behind me. I wondered what were those wolves doing here.

_Suspicion._

•••

• PRUSSIA }}_ g__ilbert_ •

It feels safe here.

I don't know where I am, but I feel safe. It's cold, but I feel the warmth of what I think is another body pressed up against my side. I yawned, and snuggled closer to the warmth. Whatever it was squirmed a bit and then sighed angrily. I think I fell back asleep, but I woke up when something was pressed against my arm and stung me. I – hard to believe – yelped a little and pushed further into the warmth. I was rewarded with a harsh push away from it.

"Would you kindly get off me now, you bloody oaf? You've drooled all over my vest!" Came a cold, accented voice.

I blinked my eyes open and found myself staring groggily up at Arthur, who had an annoyed look on his face, accompanied by a light scarlet blush. I smiled at him and unwrapped my arm from around his back, twisting to shift myself into a normal sitting arrangement, but I found that someone was holding my right arm still the same time I flinched from wounds tightening. I turned my head and found Toris focused on cleaning a cut on my arm. He was working pretty hard for such a small cut. I didn't get what the big deal was.

"What're you doing?" I asked dazedly. He gave me a look with his olive-green eyes and then sighed.

"Cleaning your wounds, can't you see?"

At that moment right there, he reminded me a bit of that pest Roderich. "Wounds? I wouldn't call them wounds. Looks like little cuts to me." I twisted my other arm to see a few faint scratches.

Arthur spoke up. "You should have seen them when you were a wolf. You're lucky you're a country, or you wouldn't have lasted very long."

I looked to Toris to verify this, but he just returned to cleaning the cuts. I ran my good arm over a few bandaged wounds, and then followed a strip of dressing down my shoulder and across my clothed chest, to find that I was wrapped up all down my abdomen.

"It's funny. I don't really remember these… I… got into a fight with another wolf?" I asked.

"It was Russia." Came a voice. I turned to look past Toris and found Raivis lying on the ground, looking up at the ceiling with a few bandages of his own. He had a big one over his cheek.

Arthur stiffened beside me, and I remembered now. I bit the inside of my cheek, anger rising.

"You should have heard him! He was taunting me. The nerve of him, insulting the awesome me! Said it wouldn't be too long before we were all dead." I growled. "He-he had those two wolves with him. It was Belarus and Ukraine! That damn Commie, I wouldn't put it pas-"

"We've already talked about it, Gilbert." Toris said calmly. "It's obvious he's trying to make trouble. It seems that he's forced this onto his sisters, and I think we should treat it as if he's committed a crime."  
>"And what are we supposed to do, Toris? Lock him up? That girl Natalia is crazy; she probably wanted to be a wolf, anyways." Arthur retorted, throwing his arms up in the air.<p>

Toris flinched a little and turned his head so I couldn't see his face as he patched up the last cut.

We were quiet for a few moments when Raivis spoke up. "So… what if he makes more?"

More wolves? "He wouldn't use humans, right? I mean, he is a sick bastar-"

"No, no… I don't think he'd use humans. Well, I mean.. I know the way he works." Toris said, moving to lean against the couch between Arthur and me. He and Raivis exchanged glances. "I… I think it's kind of obvious he's done this, isn't it?" He looked to Arthur and me now, green gaze flicking between the two of us.

I looked to Arthur, waiting for him to respond, because I had no clue. Was he… planning on starting a werewolf brothel? A circus? Did they like that in Russia? Apparently Arthur had come to the same conclusions as me, because he glanced at me with a dubious look.

Toris frowned at us. "He's keeping it in the countries. He just wants us. He'll probably end up turning everyone into one. Everyone. Russia wants to play a game, and, you know… the more the merrier."

•••


	9. Let Love Bleed Red

• AMERICA }} _a__lfred_ •

I've always disliked the parts of the world meetings when I had to_ listen_, and not _talk_. But, as I was raised by an absolutely invincible British _gentleman_, I don't put up a fuss. I got enough lectures about that as a kid. But it really is boring.

At least my former Guardian sat next to me and not that_ Frenchie_ this time. I had just finished my speech about global warming and pitched an amazing idea including a rocket ship to Mars before being dismissed by Germany and asked to sit down again. Whatever.

A few of the Asian countries were arguing with Denmark on one side of the room, and I noticed Romano shouting at Spain in what I think was Spanish or maybe Italian or maybe even both, knowing him. The others in between looked bored or awkward or tired or all three. I turned to Arthur in my ennui.

"Hey, how's it going?" I asked, careful with how to word my greeting for fear of a repeat from the last meeting. He didn't make any notion of hearing me, and my bright smile dimmed a bit.

"England?" I questioned, waving a hand in front of his face for emphasis. His green gaze snapped onto me and I was taken in for a moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry, America. Did you say something?" He sounded like he meant it, so I pushed out of my mind the nagging feeling that he was ignoring me.

I shook my head and smiled at him. "Naw."

He gave me an acknowledged nod and glanced away again. Now it was kind of awkward. So, I did what I did best, and broke the ice!

"Hey, it's kinda weird how Russia's been missing the last few meetings, huh? Where do you think he is today?" I asked, turning in my seat to face him. He turned to answer when he was interrupted.

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" Belarus screamed from across the room. "YOU DID IT, DIDN'T YOU? IT WAS YOU!" She was on top of the desk, papers fluttering through the ground. Two empty seats sat stock still on either side of her, her own left spinning from the impact.

Every nation's head was turned to Belarus. The room had a cold, surprised atmosphere as each personification stared at her with wide eyes. What was she so upset about? I noticed that she housed a few light bruises on her cheeks. Now I wished I had been paying attention. Then, slowly, the heads started turning from her and away from her and back.

With a start, I realized she was staring at me. I stood up quickly, hands in the air: surrender.

"You did it! You foolish Yankee, get over here so I can tear your-"

I didn't stand around to listen to what she had to say; she had jumped down from the desk and was running towards me. I had only meant to break the ice, not dive head-first through it and into arctic waters! I gave an unmanly yelp and ran towards the Asians. Maybe China would protect me!

Somebody grabbed my jacket, and I whirled around with my hands up to so totally push Belarus off of me, but when I started slapping at the person who had captured me, I realized it was just Germany. I probably visibly relaxed. I looked past his looming figure and saw Belarus restrained reluctantly by Japan – with force – and Switzerland – via gun-to-head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Germany demanded, his booming voice much louder so close to my face.

"He did it!" Belarus cried, trying to point towards me. My mouth was agape as she went on. "He killed him!"

"Killed?" A shudder ran through my spine. "But... I didn't kill anyone!"

"Kill who?" Germany asked.

"I swear I didn't!" I cried.

"America, shut up." Prussia said from where he was sitting.

"Kill who?"

"He did it!"  
>"NO I DIDN'T!"<p>

"This is getting good, like Korean drama, da-ze~!"

"**Shut up**!"

"Who did he kill?" "I didn't kill anyone!" "Who?"

"Big brother! That. Stupid. American. Bastard. Killed. My. Big. Brother." She growled through gritted teeth. I think there was a collective gasp. Germany's grip loosened enough for me to stagger to my feet unsupported, but I felt like my breath had been knocked out by a frigid wave.

"Russia?" Arthur's voice was calm in this ocean of angry and confused people.

"You, too! You're in an allegiance! All of you! You and that damn American killed Russia! Well, I'll avenge him! You want a war, you've got a war!" She started to sob. If she hadn't been so scary or had accused me of murdering someone, I would have felt bad for her.

Whispering announced many opinions, but I felt mine was most important, of course. "Um, I didn't kill anyone. Thanks." I said.

Germany turned to look at me, cerulean eyes chilly. "Did you, or no?"

I hated this feeling. I hadn't done anything, but I still felt nervous and jumpy as if I had. Like a two-bit, no good, filthy rotten criminal. "NO!"

Germany straightened up and looked around the crowd. "Quiet!" He shouted, but no one paid attention. They whispered with their backs turned, each one of them. Arthur's gaze flitted around the room. Prussia didn't look very happy. Denmark had stopped fighting and was now conversing with the other Nordics, who all looked quite nervous – well, sans Sweden. He looked stoic and scary as always. I noticed Egypt and Greece already leaving the room, with Taiwan trailing.

Germany sighed softly beside me. "Meeting dismissed." He said, before leaving the room.

I got to my feet and stared walking quickly back towards Arthur, hoping to put as much room between Belarus and me before Japan released the kraken, but I was almost run down by Prussia running way faster towards the same person.

I watched as the albino grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled him to his feet, eliciting not even a hateful look. Part of me was curious, but part of me was going more like 'What the hell? If I did that I would've been slapped! Ignored for a week! I thought Arthur had something against that guy?'. I was shocked.

Even more so as Prussia, tailed by Latvia and Lithuania, ran towards the Nordics at full speed before pushing Finland away from Sweden and taking the giant's wrist, pulling his little quartet out the door in a hurry and passing me again.

Ruffled. Finland and I glanced at each other, mutual confusion giving us something to meet eyes about. I broke away and watched Sweden's coat tail disappearing out the door. The meeting room was practically empty, and – my favorite – Belarus-free! I stumbled to a chair with a green jacket thrown over it and sat down before resting my head on the desk.

Okay. Bucket List.

_1.] Win a Hamburger-Eating contest. _Check!

_2.] Make Canada 51__st__ State. _Wait…Canada?

_3.] Be accused of murder. _Check!

What a great week, Alfred, I thought depressingly. Not only would I have to deal with a declaration of war from Belarus, but also all of these crazy nightmares I've been having.

In addition to the fainting-flashbacks, I had nightmares at night. Well, they weren't nightmares. They weren't really dreams, either. Where they… dreammares? They were something in between, seeming more like memories than anything else. A terrible sense of déjà vu accompanied them and I was starting to feel wary about them.

Walking along a familiar city street. Learning how to shoot a basketball. A cute beige-and-brown splotched puppy.

I was plagued by these things that didn't belong to me. It was the childhood of a child who was quite childish, very much unlike me. Maybe I had read too many fairytales as a kid, because I was seeing myself as the protagonist in these chapters of a life that wasn't mine.

•••

• PRUSSIA }}_ g__ilbert_ •

"That_ bitch!"_ I snarled, lashing out at the wall of the closet I had shoved the other nations into. It didn't respond, but my knuckles did, hurting enough that I swore again under my breath.

"W'tch yer l'nguage." Berwald muttered, blue eyes sharp in the darkness of the supply closet. He glanced down at Raivis and then back.

I ignored him and turned to Arthur. "If it's a war she wants, it's a war she'll get!" I announced, waiting for the Englishman to agree with me.

"No!" Toris said, placing a hand on my arm. "We can't! We didn't kill Russia!"

I stepped back, nearly tripping over a bucket. "Oh, yeah…" I had forgotten what the war was about for a moment. Ludwig always said I got tripped up in dramatics. I sighed and we all fell quiet, the only sound was Raivis shaking lightly against something.

"Now, we have to be rational." Arthur spoke up from beside me. Our gazes turned to him. "Belarus said that Russia was dead. I don't think she's lying, because she was obviously pretty serious about this war. Since she doesn't know who killed him-"

"She said America did. There has to be some thread of proof behind it – maybe he's too dumb to remember that he killed Russia." I said, words growing quicker. I wanted to come to a conclusion.

"Like hell!" Arthur growled. "Whose side are you on?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten that you'd do anything to keep your hero scot-free." I quipped innocently.

"He said he didn't, so he didn't! That's it." He snapped, turning away before Berwald could step in between us and stop our arguing. Toris opened the closet a bit to survey the area: I caught a glimpse of the growing crowd of nations in the hallway, staring at us. I bore my teeth in a smile, startling Monaco, and shut the door again, face growing solemn.  
>"<em>Since she doesn't know who killed him,"<em> Arthur carried on through gritted teeth. "It could be anyone."

"D'sn't have t' be a p'rson. Could be an'thin'." Berwald said softly.

That had us thinking. We were quiet and I mulled this over, a tiny sense of dread growing uncharacteristically in my stomach.

"What about his, um, country?" Raivis squeaked from behind the giant. "It's still fine…" He trailed off.

"Damn." I breathed, hitting my head against the wall gently.

I hadn't signed up for this, seriously. There were only a few things I was sure of, and even those were mysteries.

I was a country. But my country wasn't there anymore.

Russia was dead. But his country was fine.

I was a wolf. There was no reason for me to be a wolf.

Even if I were human, this was not normal, nor supposed to happen.

"What if there are others?" I asked, looking up to the eyes of my… what were they? Friends? Fellow-werewolves? Comrades?

"Then we're screwed." Arthur announced in his lovely accent.

Yay.

**** KUDOS TO YOU IF YOU GET REFERENCES IN THIS CHAPTER! :D**


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